A friend for house
by casper35
Summary: House finds some one not his intellectual equal but perhaps emotionally in the same place.


Doctors are all idiots.

Cuddy was on my ass. Not that this was unusual but my backside seemed a bit crowded as of late. It seems I had antagonized the whole world. My slackers and Wilson were staying well clear. And this was fine by me. I had sensed that I had gone over the top, even for me, but like any addicted personality knowing I was going to far and stopping myself were two different things.  
So they could stay clear. Some where deep down, though I would never admit it, I needed these people my only contact with the human race. Even though they don't get it. Nobody gets it. Nobody sees what I see. Nobody understands what I take for granted.  
My head was pounding, too much to drink; my leg was throbbing with the rhythm of my pounding heart. No amount of meds could ease my discomfort. My escort date had eased my pain. She was so fine, and with her I could forget everything. I had stretched her one-hour to two then to three. But then I felt suddenly odd when I realized I must let her go, odd and alone. So alone, it was a mistake, I realized, to search the phone books for an escort service. She only heightened my loneliness when she left me. Only highlighted my social ineptitude. I looked at my bottle of meds, how much would it take. Would they find me, and pump my stomach and then I would forever have to face them, as some one who attempted suicide.  
The clock ticking, time is relentless.  
At the hospital I go straight on by to a coffee shop I recently discovered. I happened to drive by and noticed a rather buxom girl working there. She was out side catching some sun and enjoying a smoke. Buxom and showing a hint of cleavage, enough to get ones attention but not enough to scream at me I got tits. Well I did hear a scream even if it was in my imagination. In luck she was working today and served me coffee and I took a peek down the front of her tee shirt, and she noticed me looking down into the cavern between her boobs, and only smiled a sweet smile. The place is filled with books, classical music plays in the background, people, a couple of ladies talking in German, about the food here compared to back home. A couple it looks like on there first date. I notice he lies to her when he talks about his job, his pulse goes up. I guess it evens out, she is baked and faked, in various places.  
I try to massage my headache with caffeine; the place gives you a coffee bean covered in chocolate. I let it melt in my mouth while looking at the girl. Her and her boss are trying out coffee recipes their wondering why this liquor added to coffee curdles the cream, its most likely slightly acidic, but I don't tell them. My pounding head leaves me with no desire to enter into conversation.  
People don't like me anyway. I'm always right. They can't deal with some one who is always right. It makes them feel inadequate. And I have at this moment know desire to annoy some one who has as lovely breasts as hers.  
The chime rings above the door. Most peoples heads turn to see who the knew intruder is to our little group. My eyes remain riveted on boobs. My arms cradle my head, my cell phone rings, but I ignore it. Pondering whether she is a d or an e cup seemed to take my mind of the rhythmic pounding in my head. The intruder is handicapped, downs syndrome, with a severe speech impediment. She only wants to use the bathroom. They don't understand the owner doesn't understand. Their banter is annoying. Finally I say, "bathroom," she has to use the can.  
"I know what she wants," says the owner. "Then let her use the dam bathroom"  
"Restrooms are for paying customers only"  
"Oh for crying out loud. Let her use the can"  
"Washrooms are for paying customers. Do you know the bums out there"  
"I know the bums in here"  
I stood up and went to the counter, dug through my change and asked the poor girl if a regular dark roast coffee would be all right.  
"If it gets me into the bathroom, it's all right." I paid for her coffee, and much to my annoyance she put he cup on my table and went to the bathroom.  
When she came out, she was almost in tears, "why don't people get it, I have to go to the bathroom just like everyone else." 


End file.
